Arandur
by Lorewen
Summary: The official title of the Steward of Gondor is Arandur, which literally means King's Servant. Yet for centuries there was no King for them to serve. Not all the Stewards were as pleased with this situation as Denethor was, nor was he the only one with eyes to see the truth.
1. Inheritance

**I own neither these characters nor their world.**

At the squeak of the hinges, deliberately left unoiled to prevent surprise, Steward Ecthelion looked up from his desk. A cloaked figure slipped on noiseless feet into the office and closed the door behind him with another squeak. Even before he removed his hood, the Steward knew by his height that this was the Northern Captain, his favorite by far of all the foreigners who had gathered to his banner in recent years. He rose to greet him, prompting a shadow of confusion in the other's face, but neither man commented on it.

"You sent for me, my lord?"

"Yes. I wished first of all to apologize for my son's behavior this morning."

The Captain shook his head. "Denethor's attempt to provoke me only succeeded in displaying his own ignorance. I was rather amused than provoked. Nay, my lord, there is no need for apology, least of all from you."

"Then you are not, as he implied, an orphan?"

Instantly, the familiar shutters slid closed behind those keen grey eyes. "Now you are prying into my private life, my lord."

"Nay, I am sorry. I did not call you here to inquire into how you were raised, but rather why you have not told me your true identity."

"The name my father gave me at birth is a secret known only to my nearest kin and oldest friends, my lord."

It was the old explanation that did not explain. The Northerner had used it many times since he came to Gondor, and probably just as often while he lived in Rohan. Now, however, the Steward's attention focused on the title tacked so casually—and yet, he now recognized, so unnaturally—at the end of the statement.

"I do not understand why you persist in calling me lord. I ought to be calling you that, Thorongil—or should I say, my Lord Ar-whatever-it-is?"

A certain wariness came into the taller man's stance, and although his hands made no move toward his weapons, Ecthelion suddenly found himself very much aware of the long sword and probable dagger or two hanging ready under Thorongil's cloak.

"Lord Steward?" The question was soft, but there was a hint of warning in its tone. The older man swallowed hard, but pressed on.

"Yes, I have finally figured out who you really are, but I will honor your silence for as long as you choose to maintain it. I would not have mentioned my knowledge even to you, except that I must ask why. Why do I still sit in the Black Chair, now that you have come?"

"I have no claim on the Black Chair."

The Steward shook his head. "Please, Lord Thorongil."

There was a pause, and then the other relaxed and the shutters opened.

"Aragorn, but only when we are certain that we are alone."

Relief filled Ecthelion's heart at the Heir's concession. _Valiant King, is it?_

"A name well chosen! Thank you, Lord Aragorn."

With a nod, Aragorn gestured to the chair behind the desk, and took one of those in front of it for himself.

"Ecthelion, I have no intention of taking your inheritance from you, even when I do claim my own at last. Your line have served Gondor well, you are a wise and capable ruler, and your son bids fair to uphold and even to raise that standard."

"I am grateful for your words, my lord. Truly it is encouraging to know that my King thinks so highly of me and mine, and I am more glad than I can say that you intend to maintain the Stewardship. Yet I do not think that you understand when you say that you will not take away my inheritance. I am the Arandur after all, the King's Servant. Lord King, you _are_ my inheritance, even as we of Gondor are yours."

Aragorn's rare smile flashed briefly across his face, then he nodded sadly.

"Believe me, I would like nothing better than the chance to restore this realm and Arnor to their proper state as free, prosperous, and above all _peaceful_ kingdoms, with my beloved Evenstar beside me." He sighed. "But I will not risk strife with Denethor, or any of the other lords, not while Sauron rules in Mordor."

The finality of Aragorn's words and tone struck Ecthelion like a blow. _Not while Sauron rules!_ The Steward was already beginning to feel the swift old age of the Dunedain weakening him, even as Sauron seemed to become stronger day by day.

"Then I will not live to see your return?"

"I fear not." Both were silent for a moment. Then the King caught his Steward's eye and held it. "Be that as it may, you are _still_ the Arandur, and my family has long counted yours among our most faithful and valuable servants, even in our apparent absence. Continue to hold Gondor for me whether I am here with you or no, and you _have_ your inheritance."

"Oh, Lord, you are the portion of my inheritance and my cup; you maintain my lot." Psalm 16:5

"Hold fast what you have till I come." Revelation 2:25


	2. Departure

**I own neither these characters nor their world.**

Word of the victory at the Havens of Umbar reached Minas Tirith long before the returning fleet. Thorongil sent one of his men as a messenger as soon as he entered the Anduin, and there was much rejoicing as his account of the Captain's feats spread through the city. Some even said that it was a pity Gondor's laws did not allow a stranger to hold other than military rank, that one who accomplished such things for Gondor was worthy of lordship among them.

Thorongil's official report, of course, said nothing of any great feats of swordsmanship, nor did it boast of his own prowess as a leader of men, but the evidence was visible between the lines. "The mission was successful, Lord Steward. Most of the Umbari fleet is destroyed; their Captain of the Havens is dead; our own fleet escaped with small loss; and many slaves freed from the galleys are returning with us. The power of the Corsairs is crippled for the next few decades at least."

The mention of galley slaves came as a surprise to Ecthelion, who had not realized that the Corsair ships used such rowers. In fact, the original plan of attack had involved fire arrows and catapults for burning the ships as they lay at anchor unsuspecting. Gondor's fleet was too small for open battle, so the whole plan had depended on striking quickly and leaving immediately. How under Elbereth's stars had Thorongil managed to free the slaves, destroy the fleet, and escape destruction himself? Too full of enthusiasm to express himself in an open message, Ecthelion addressed a sealed letter to the Captain, and sent it to Pelargir by two of his best errand riders.

Thorongil had just finished arranging with Lord Corinir of Pelargir for the care of some of the former slaves, when two men in the livery of errand riders rode up to the wharf.

"What news of the White City?" Lord Corinir asked.

"The people are eager to welcome their hero with great honor," one rider replied. "The Steward has sent us with a letter for Captain Thorongil."

The Captain accepted the letter with thanks, took his leave of Lord Corinir, and left them to exchange further news while he retired to his ship. Alone in the cabin he usually shared with the ship's commander, he opened the letter.

"Oh, well done! Well done indeed, Lord King! That you should have rescued many slaves as well as destroying the fleet is an astounding feat! Great honor awaits you in Minas Tirith! There has even been talk of convincing me to change the laws and allow you a lordship among us, in spite of your foreign ancestry. Will you not consider revealing your true ancestry, and claiming the lordship that is rightfully yours? Surely none in all the realm would lift their voices against you now, not even Denethor. Is it not the time at last, Lord Valiant King?"

Thorongil frowned. Denethor might not openly speak against him, but he would undermine his rule, and that was something no king could afford while standing against Sauron. No, the time was not yet. Which meant…he sighed. There were shrewd men in Minas Tirith who would surely have guessed his identity, and he feared that they would not allow him to remain as he was. No, he could not afford to be this popular. He must leave Gondor at once.

He sent off a brief reply to Ecthelion, and disappeared into the shadows whence he came. "Other tasks now call me, lord, and much time and many perils must pass, ere I come again to Gondor, if that be my fate."

"Therefore when Jesus perceived that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he departed again to the mountain by himself alone." John 6:15


End file.
